The Grapefruit Analogy
by Mummyluvr
Summary: How far would Dean go to get a family of his own? And is it really worth the nine month wait?
1. Chapter 1

I'll be completely honest with you. Ihe original title for this story was 'Why I Shouldn't Stay Up Past 11.' When I started writing it, I was trying to take a break from all the angst I'd been turning out. Soon as I got to the end of the first page, though, I realized I wasn't getting that vacation.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that, yes, it IS an MPreg story. I never read them, so I can't expect you to. If you'd just do me a favor and skim the first chapter, though, you might be pleasantly surprised. I sure was.

**Title:** The Grapefruit Analogy

**Summary:** How far would Dean really go to get a family of his own?

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** MPreg

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own it. If I did, Dean would have more issues and Ellen might try to fix him instead of just... standing there and doing nothing.

* * *

The Grapefruit Analogy

"I'm pregnant."

Those two simple words, so innocent and yet so full of danger, echoed through the room, stopping Dean in his tracks. He didn't turn around, didn't flinch, didn't blink, just stopped.

"Did you hear me?"

He nodded, a little bob of his head to show that he had, indeed, heard the words that would forever change this woman's life. She was going to have a baby. It was a big step. She was going to be a mother.

Finally, he turned around and faced her, looking over the older woman who stood behind the bar, her hands on her hips, eyes watching him. "That's great, Ellen," he smiled, sliding onto one of the stools at the bar and resting his elbows on the scratched surface, "that's awesome."

She squinted at him, appraising him, gauging his reaction, her heart sinking when she saw the pure joy that shone in his eyes. He was truly happy for her. "Dean, I'm too old. It's too dangerous."

"If you just be careful-"

"I can't keep it."

"Why not?"

"Because something could go wrong. I could get hurt, the baby could get hurt. It can't happen."

"But-"

"And what would Jo say?"

Dean shrugged. "You don't have to tell her."

"It'll crush her. You know how she is. I'm not keeping it."

"I don't think that's your decision to make, Ellen."

"It's my body," she argued.

"But it's my baby," he shot back.

She glared at him, again appraising him, seeing how far he was willing to go to keep his son or daughter safe. In all honesty, it had been a mistake. He'd shown up at the Roadhouse on Christmas Eve, shaking and covered in fresh-fallen snow, telling a disjointed story about how Sam had found someone better to spend the holidays with. Old friends, he'd said, people from Stanford, nice normal folk who didn't kill to stay alive.

He'd been all alone on Christmas, and so had she. They'd kept each other company, sitting at the bar and talking. He had told about past adventures, and so had she. He'd asked why she was alone, and she had told him. Ash was with family, Jo was… well, she wasn't quite sure where Jo was, not since the postcards had stopped.

They'd enjoyed each other's company, talked and laughed into the wee hours of the morning, and then they'd headed off to bed. Together.

It had been a one-time thing, or so she'd thought before Dean had come through the Roadhouse doors about a week later and taken her into his arms and kissed her passionately. She'd hated to call it off, to tell him no, but she didn't have another choice. He was too young, her daughter liked him, and she still missed her husband. He said he understood.

And then this. Calling him here, having a fight after he'd thought she was going to apologize for hurting him like so many others had, telling the secret. He wanted to keep it. She didn't. He wanted something to hold onto and take care of and nurture. She just wanted her husband and daughter to come back.

"You know," he said softly, leaning over the bar and reaching slowly for her hand before she swiped it back, "I respect your choice. I do. I just would have made a different one."

She took a step back, watching his eyes, knowing that it was the only way to really know how he felt, what he was thinking. "It's not your choice," she whispered, "it's not your body."

He sighed, ducking his head, finally breaking eye-contact. She thought she heard something, a gasp, maybe, or a sob. It was quick, too quick to be sure. She saw his hand come up, though, saw him swipe at something on his face.

"It could be, though," she finally said, leaning over the bar and taking his hand in hers.

Wet eyes came up, shining with confusion and blind hope. "What?"

"I know of someone," she said softly, holding his hand up by her face, no longer caring what he might think it meant, how he might take it, just feeling sympathy and pity, the same two emotions that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. "She's a witch, exiled from her coven when she refused to act as a sacrifice to their goddess. She came to me for safety, and I got her away from her sisters and into a nice apartment in downtown Omaha. She could help."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not-"

She leaned closer, finally letting go of his hand. "I won't carry it," she whispered, "but you could."

He would never agree to it, never let her put him through that. He valued his masculine image too much for that. It was the only alternative, something he would turn down immediately, easing both their pain at this decision.

"Really?" he asked, leaning close to her, his face almost touching hers, hot breath coming in short gasps.

Ellen blinked, pulling back, getting him out of her bubble. "You're kidding." There was no mistake, though. The look on his face said it all. "You know what I'm talking about, right?"

He nodded, a careful smile creeping across his face, that old hopeful spark back in his eyes. "Is it possible? I mean, wouldn't we need another chick?"

She dropped her eyes, unable to believe her ears, to comprehend what she was seeing and hearing. "It's magic, Dean," she muttered, "not surrogacy."

"Great, then," he said, sliding off the stool and jumping to the floor, "when do we leave?"

"You need to think about this," Ellen cautioned, bringing her eyes up again and wishing immediately that she hadn't. He was practically bouncing up and down, staring at her with so much longing in those haunted hazel eyes, so much hope, so much wonder. "It's not something to be taken lightly. This is nine months of suffering and caution. It ends in pain."

"What's there to think about?" Dean asked, the wonder gone from his face, his body suddenly still. His eyes bored into her, assessing her, searching for signs of the same deception she'd handed him before. "I want a family. You don't."

"You have Sam."

"Yeah. Sam. You know he's run away three times since I picked him up from Stanford? He thinks he's gonna turn evil. He wants me to kill him. I have to save him, and once I do, he's going back to school. Then what'll I have?"

Ellen sighed, watching him. He was tense, still eyeing her with suspicion, waiting for a response, hoping for something he wasn't going to get. He wanted her to say 'you'll have me,' but it wasn't going to happen. The truth was, he wouldn't have anything. Nothing besides his car, and that was hardly the same as a human.

"You really want to do this, don't you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"What are you going to tell your brother?"

"The truth," he shrugged, "not like he can do anything about it."

* * *

So, yeah. Any early opinions? Comments are always welcome, even if they're not the cheeriest :) 


	2. Chapter 2

Well, that was surprisingly supportive. I honestly didn't expect anyone to review (or read, to be completely honest). I'm glad you took a risk. now, how many of you are willing to continue this little journey into weirdness with me?

* * *

"You know," Mikayla Smith said as her eyes darted over the nervous couple in front of her, "this is a first for me."

"You've never done it before?" her old friend asked, glancing at the young man who stood beside her.

"Oh, I've done it," Kayla assured, "just not like this. Normally, it's a woman scorned looking for a little revenge. This is the first time I've ever actually heard of a man _wanting_ to do it. You've got yourself a keeper here, Ellen."

Ellen just smiled politely, her eyes finally wandering from the man at her side to the young witch who stood before her. "So you can do it?"

"Of course," Kayla shrugged, "it's not as hard as you might think."

"So, it's decided." Ellen looked back at Dean, who stood close to her, his arm lightly touching hers, his eyes cast down at the floor, feet scuffling softly back and forth, "that is, if you're still willing to do it."

The hunter clenched his teeth and swallowed, his nervous shuffling stopping as he straightened up and looked around the room for the first time since arriving. "I'm willing," he said quietly, "just one question."

"What's that?" Kayla asked, smiling at him.

"How… I mean, will… it's just…"

"Yes?"

"I'm not gonna have to try and push a grapefruit through a straw, here, am I?"

Ellen rolled her eyes as Kayla struggled to bite back the laughter that threatened to burst loose as she took in the earnest (and maybe even scared?) look on his face. "Call it a magical Cesarean," she giggled, "you just head back here about a week before the baby's due and I'll take care of it. It won't leave any scars."

Dean nodded. "Good."

"No stretch marks, either," the witch continued, figuring that she might as well cover all the bases up front, "and no nasty water weight left over. You'll be right back to normal." Still trying to suppress her giggles, she left the room, heading behind a curtain to prepare for the task that lay ahead.

"You're sure about this?" Ellen asked, carefully avoiding Dean's eyes. Those eyes, so full of hurt, were the reason she was there in the first place.

"Pretty sure," the hunter replied, "as long as you promise not to skimp on the child support." He smirked.

"You don't have to do it if you're scared."

"Does that mean you'd keep it?"

"We've been over this, Dean. I _can't_."

"Fine," he nodded, "_I_ can."

Mikayla hustled back into the room with a large leather-bound book in her hands. She set the tome down on a table that stood in the center of the room and began reverently flipping through the dusty yellow pages. She glanced up, eyes again studying the two people in front of her.

"You're positive?" she asked, her voice grave, "because there's no turning back."

Dean sighed. "You know, you guys keep on asking that, it's almost like you don't want me to go through with this."

"We want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself in to," Ellen explained.

"I know. I want this."

The witch nodded, smiling, "you're dedicated."

"I'm tired of being alone."

"You're not alone," Ellen began, not really knowing what else to say, what else she could say, because, in all likelihood, he _would_ end up all alone someday. Maybe even someday soon.

Mikayla cleared her throat, saving her friend from the awkwardness of trying to continue. The witch began to mutter under her breath, motioning for her two clients to move in closer. They did as they were instructed, stepping up, one on either side of her. She reached out, laying a light hand on both hunters' stomachs, the volume of her chanting increasing as she did so.

Ellen watched Dean's face, looking for signs of regret or fear or _anything_, but couldn't read it. He was stoic, staring down at the witch's hand. The only noticeable change she could see in him was a widening of his eyes as Kayla's hands began to glow with soft blue light.

Dean dropped his head farther, letting his eyes slide shut. He could still see the light radiating from Mikayla's hand, even through his eyelids. He felt something inside of him shift, something change, a new weight in the pit of his belly. It was warm and oddly comforting. It seemed to fit somehow. He smiled.

"So," Mikayla asked, dropping her hands and looking up at Dean, "how do you feel?"

He brought his head up and just stared at her, his hand sneaking involuntarily up and tracing its way softly across his flat stomach.

He didn't know what to say, couldn't put it into words. He felt different, that was for sure. He was no longer so cold inside, no longer lacking that warmth that had departed the day his dying father had whispered the horrible truth into his ear. How could he possibly make her understand that he didn't feel empty anymore?

"Ok," he shrugged, letting his hand run over his stomach again.

Kayla smiled. "Well, that's good to hear. The feeling won't last long, though, trust me. I've had one of my own. You should probably prepare to bid that six-pack farewell." She grabbed her book and headed back into her curtained room, "see you in nine months."


	3. Chapter 3

Wow. I mean, seriously... WOW. I never expected this kind of response. I can only hope that I do this next chapter justice.

That's right. It's THE chapter. The one where Sam finds out that DEan's got a bun in the oven :) Enjoy!

* * *

"Where were you?"

Dean stopped in his tracks, hand tracing its way across his stomach. Sam didn't seem to notice his brother's nervous stance, the way the older man shrunk back toward the door, the way he covered his belly as if protecting it from harm.

"Well?" Sam demanded.

Dean cleared his throat. "I was with Ellen. I was at the Roadhouse, then I, uh, went to run a quick errand with her in Omaha."

"Omaha? What did she have to do there?"

"It was kind of something we had to do together."

"Ok, mind filling me in?"

Dean sighed, lowering his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, all right, man. And I'm Thomas Kinkade. Seriously, though, what took you?"

"I am being serious," Dean replied, crossing the room to plop down on his bed, "she called me over because she wanted to tell me she was having my baby."

"That's impossible," Sam argued, still smiling, "I mean, she's old enough to be our mom, Dean. Besides, when would you have had time-"

"Christmas Eve. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I went to the Roadhouse. She was there. We were both alone, so we just kind of talked, and then…"

"You trying to tell me that you actually slept with Ellen?"

"For lack of anything better to do," Dean nodded, managing a weak smile.

"And she…?"

"Was." He dropped his eyes again, turning away from his brother. "She didn't want it. She was gonna kill my baby, Sammy."

"You're serious?"

"She doesn't want anything to do with me now. One-time thing, she said. It didn't mean anything. I actually thought… I thought she liked me. Like she got it. Maybe I could have something other than hunting."

"You have me," Sam attempted, sitting down next to the older man, not quite sure what to make of everything. At first the whole thing had seemed like an elaborate joke, something Dean was making up as he went along to avoid a scolding from his younger brother. Not anymore, though. Now it seemed real.

Dean finally looked up, eyes shining, face set. "How long?"

Sammy blinked. "What?"

"How long? How long am I gonna have you? How long am I gonna have anything? Let's face it, I'm a freak and everyone's gonna leave me. Mom and dad and Ellen already did. Hell, even Jo bolted. How long is it going to take before you realize that you're better off with out me? How long before you figure out that it's not _your _fault everyone's dying? Huh?"

"You're sick," Sam whispered, reaching up and placing a large hand over his brother's forehead to check for heat. Dean didn't flinch away like he usually did, and his head wasn't hot. "What's gotten into you?"

Dean grinned, his eyes far away. "Hormones," he muttered, voice soft, almost a whisper, "freakin' hormones."

"Dean?"

The grin widened. "She wouldn't take it," the elder muttered, shaking his head, almost as if he were talking to himself, "but she knows somebody. A witch. She knows a witch."

"You're not making any sense."

"She thought it would be dangerous. That was her excuse. Deadly for her and the baby. She made an offer, though. Probably thought I'd refuse. She didn't know how much I want this. She had no idea. I mean, I used to dream about it sometimes, back when you started hating us. You were ten. I guess I thought ten years wasn't a bad run, as far as unconditional love goes. I wanted some more, though."

"You need to lie down. You're rambling."

"You ever wonder why I sleep around so much?"

"I try not to think about it."

"I just figured… with my crappy luck, one of them was bound to get knocked up. She'd call and I'd go running, and we'd spend the rest of our lives together."

Sam sighed. "Dean, there's something wrong with you."

"I wanted a family, and she didn't. I took it. It's mine."

"What are you talking about?"

"The baby. _My _baby. Sammy, I'm pregnant." He smiled.

"How much did you drink?"

"Honestly? Nothing. No alcohol. Bad for the baby."

"You're serious, then?"

Dean smiled, running a hand over his stomach. "Yeah, I'm serious."

Sam practically jumped off the bed. "That's impossible-"

"It's magic."

"What about… I mean, how… what are you gonna do when… when it comes time to try and push that watermelon through a straw, huh?"

Dean blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Watermelon, huh? I was thinking more along the lines of a grapefruit-"

"You weren't thinking at all! Dean, magic or not, this is just stupid!"

"Relax. Ellen's friend has it all planned out, all right? Call it a magical Cesarean. No scars or anything. Like it never even happened."

"And what are we gonna do when you start to show?" Sam asked, raising his voice, beginning to wonder when exactly he had started to believe his obviously sick older brother.

"Baggy clothes," Dean shrugged, "besides, there are lots of dudes out there that look pregnant. Remember your fifth grade math teacher? It's called a beer gut."

Sammy sighed and sank onto the bed next to his brother. "You know you can't-"

"Drink? Yeah. I know. I should probably take some time off hunting, too."

"You really have thought this through."

"It would be stupid not to."

"So," Sam asked, turning to his brother and smiling, "whatcha gonna name it?"


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry about the length of the chapter today, guys. Maybe I'll post up another one later.

* * *

Sam woke up laughing. He'd had the weirdest dream ever, and that was saying something. Male pregnancy. Seemed like some cracked-up teenage girl's fantasy, some sort of jacked-up fairy tale imagined in the wee hours of the morning. Definitely not reality.

That was when he heard it.

Slowly, Sammy got to his feet and made his way to the bathroom door, toward the noise. Retching could be heard from behind the thin slab of wood. "Dean? You ok?"

The noise stopped and Sam pushed the door open. Dean was leaning on the toilet, his head hanging limply over the bowl, eyes wet, something dribbling down his chin. He was smiling.

"Morning sickness," he whispered, looking weakly up at his brother, "it really did work."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, leaning up against the doorframe as Dean's head dropped back down. "It wasn't a dream, then?"

"Nope. Real as real can get."

"I can't believe you'd actually do this."

"My choice," Dean muttered, shaking his head.

Sammy sighed. "Whatever. Want some breakfast?" Dean moaned. "Because I was thinking of going to BK and picking up a couple of really greasy burgers and some old, soggy fries. Sure you don't want any?"

"Bitch," Dean hissed.

"I'm not the one with morning sickness, jerk."

o0o0o0o0o

"Nothing," Sam muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face and blinking at the glowing laptop screen, "there's nothing supernatural here, so why stay?"

Dean didn't respond, just sat on the edge of his bed and stared blankly at the room's small television.

"You hear me?"

"Eeeew," Dean muttered, shuddering, "he made out with his mom… I mean, it's totally justifiable, because she was kinda hot at the time, but… that's just wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"Holy crap! It's a demon! He made out with a demon!"

Sammy cocked an eyebrow and scooted his chair out far enough to see the TV screen. Some sort of demonic entity was forcing a cup of blood down a dead Smallvillian's throat.

"I don't know what's worse," Dean said, finally turning to his brother, "the fact that he made out with the devil, or the fact that he made out with his mom."

"This is why we don't watch TV," Sam muttered, turning back to the laptop.

"Technically," the elder defended, "it's not TV. It's a movie. I went out and rented it today while you were taking an hour long shower. It had great cover art."

"The main character made out with the devil-slash-his-mother. You can't justify that with cool cover art."

"Least he's not taking his sweet time painting a pretty picture," Dean reasoned, "I mean, honestly, a movie about a budding artist?"

"Look, I thought it would be interesting, all right? You can't hold that over my head forever."

"I can and I will."

Sam spun around. "I'm not the one with a bun in the oven. There's nothing I've ever done that can top that, Dean. Face it, you set yourself up for a fall."

Dean shrugged and slid off the bed, clicking off the TV. "Man, that movie sucked. The only good thing was the lead. Now _he_ was someone I could identify with."

"Dean," Sam sighed.

"What?"

"There's nothing going on here. We should leave. There've been some chupacabra sightings a couple of states over. I'm thinking we can head out tomorrow, all right?"

Dean shrugged. "If you think you can handle it by yourself, go ahead. I'm not gonna stop you."

"You're really serious about this 'no hunting' thing, aren't you?"

"I'm not gonna have the responsibility for this kid's death on my head. That's the reason I took it in the first place. I wanted it to at least get a _chance_ to live."

Sammy nodded. "All right. I'll take care of it myself. You at least coming with me?"

"Long as we're back here in nine months, I don't see why not."

"I'll mark my calendar, sweetheart."

"Oh, well that does it. You just lost your running in the godparent race. Looks like it's just Ash and Jo now…"

"I'm crying on the inside, really," Sam chuckled as he closed down the laptop and let his mind wander to the months ahead.

* * *

Yeah, short and uneventful. Don't worry, I promise the next chapter is MUCH better (and a little longer). 


	5. Chapter 5

OK, I promised a longer chapter today, and this is it.

BTW, references to movies in the previous chapter were Devour (which Jensen starred in) and The Christmas Cottage (Jared). I just couldn't help myself :)

All right, now for a little explanation: From now on, each section of a chapter is a different month in the pregnancy. No, this doesn't mean that the story is short, becuase I'm going on 40 pages on Word right now. What it means is that (gasp) there's more to this than just MPreg!

Well, please enjoy this next chapter :)

* * *

Dean sighed and pulled the key to the latest motel room, a real grimy number in some nameless Illinois town, out of his pocket. He balanced the bag of groceries on his hip as he swiped the card through the slot, cursing under his breath as the little light on the lock blinked red.

"Freakin' technological revolution," he muttered through clenched teeth as the light changed from red to green and the lock clicked open. "'Bout damn time."

He stumbled into the room, flipping on the lights and depositing the bag of food unceremoniously on the floor. He took a look around the abandoned space before looking once over his shoulder. The Impala wasn't in the parking lot, which meant Sam was gone.

It had been nearly two months since the chupacabra hunt in southern Nebraska, and the brothers had been on the road ever since, traveling from dumpy motel to dumpy motel, sleeping with roaches and bathing with… well, Dean didn't really like to think about the things living on the shower walls.

Sam had been hunting by himself for eight weeks, leaving late and staggering back in agonizingly early. It was an oddity for him to be gone in the middle of the day, but Dean didn't think anything of it. Something had obviously popped up, and it couldn't wait.

He walked into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him and staring into the mirror before moving on to other business. He barely recognized himself, and had made the mistake of letting his little brother in on that particular secret about a week back. Sam had agreed, saying he was 'absolutely glowing with feminine beauty.' Needless to say, Geekboy had gotten a face full of unwashed feather pillow.

Thoroughly relieved, Dean washed his hands and headed back into the main room. His eyes fell on the closed door and narrowed, his muscles tensing, body readying itself instinctively for action. He'd left the front door open, stupid thing as it was to do. So what had closed it?

A quick survey of the room, and his worst fears were realized. Sammy wasn't back, he was all alone, and something had closed the door. Slowly, carefully, he crossed the room, heading for his duffel bag and the small armory hidden within. He barely made it halfway to the bed before he was roughly slammed up against a grime-streaked wall by a powerful unseen force.

Yellow eyes sparked to life in the shadows as harsh chuckling filled the small room. "Well," a cocky voice said as the demon strolled from its hiding place, "I was expecting Sammy, but I guess you'll do."

"What do you want?"

"My soldier," the creature replied, easily crossing the room to stand nose-to-nose with the hunter, "duh."

"You're not gonna get him. Not as long as I'm around."

"Well, then, I guess I'm just gonna have to jump that little hurdle right now, huh?" It reached out and ran a cold finger down Dean's cheek and over his neck, finally stopping and pushing down on his windpipe. "It's almost too easy," it hissed.

Dean coughed and gasped, his vision swimming, the sickly yellow eyes before him glinting maniacally in the dim light. "You can't…"

"Why not?" the demon asked, breathing putrid breath in his face as the pressure on the hunter's neck was lifted, "give me one good reason."

They stared at each other, neither blinking, Dean's mind going straight to the baby. Suddenly, the demon began to smile, a wide, hideous grin that never touched its cold eyes. "You can't be serious," it whispered.

It traced its finger from his throat, down his chest, and to his stomach, assessing his eyes, laughing at the way panic and determination flared up in the hazel orbs as the long, twisted finger rested over his belly.

"Well," the demon grinned, "I do believe congratulations are in order, Dean. This is a very big event. For both of us." It took its finger from his stomach and stepped back. "You see, I've never actually done this to a guy before, but I've always wanted to. I think, considering the circumstances, it's fitting."

Dean's eyes went wide as his body began to move toward the ceiling and the demon continued to laugh at him. "Oh, yes," it whispered, eyes sparkling, "_very_ fitting."

His head connected with the ceiling and Dean's vision swam again, his head aching, his body continuing that final, fateful journey to a spot in the center of the room. "Boom," the demon muttered, flashing a toothy smile as a large cut began to trace its way across the hunter's stomach.

The door to the room burst suddenly open and Sam barged in, firing blindly at the thing that stood in the middle of the room. The demon turned in time to deflect the bullets and pin Sammy up against the doorframe. "We'll finish this up later," it cooed as it strolled casually past the younger hunter, "maybe when you're brother's not so… _distracted_, huh?"

Sam was thrown roughly into the room as the door slammed and Dean fell from the ceiling, hand on his bleeding stomach, fear shining in his eyes. "You all right?" Sam asked, staggering to his feet and crossing the room to his fallen sibling.

Dean shook his head, rolling onto his side and pulling his hand from the gash in the left side of his stomach, wincing at the sight of the blood and the thought of what it might mean.

"Doesn't look too deep," Sammy commented, pulling his brother's shirt up to view the wound, surprised that Dean didn't try to fight him, "flesh wound. Didn't hit anything major."

"You sure?" Dean whispered, "because-"

"I'm sure. Come on, get up." He pulled the older man to his feet, watching his brother's face, the hollow look of his eyes, the way his mouth worked without producing any sound. "It's fine, Dean."

"But you're not sure."

"Well, what do you want me to do, pull a Tom Cruise and perform a home ultrasound?" Dean didn't smile, just kept his hand over the cut and stared straight ahead as Sam led him carefully to one of the beds. "Come on, man, it's not that deep."

"You sure?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

Dean shook his head, taking his hand from his stomach and pulling his shirt up to inspect the gash. "Nebraska's not too far. We could go back to Kayla. She could check. Just to be safe."

"Can't. I'm not done here yet."

The older man ducked his head. "What if…?"

"It's fine, man," Sam said softly, a little worried. He'd never seen his brother act like that before, never seen him so vulnerable, so scared, "I promise."

"We need to go back to Nebraska."

"As soon as I'm done, I promise."

"We need to stay there."

"What?"

Dean looked back up at him, eyes shining and determined. "This isn't the kind of life I want to bring my kid into. We can't keep running. We've got to settle down."

"You're kidding, right?" One look at his brother's face erased all doubt of his honesty. "Dean, look, I know this doesn't seem ideal, but _we_ turned out ok."

Dean snorted. "Yeah. Ok. Sammy, you're a psychic with some sort of demon coming after you, and I'm pregnant. That's not ok. That's freakin' messed up. I'm not putting my kid through this. We're settling. That's final."

Sam sighed, nodding weakly and turning away from the older man. He'd made up his mind. There was no going against it, no use in fighting. They were settling. Twenty-three years of running, and it had taken an attempt on his unborn child's life to finally bring the mighty Dean Winchester to his knees, and, in turn, suburbia.


	6. Chapter 6

Well, I'm back after taking a break from trying to figure out my new iPod gizmo. The stupid docking station has speakers for a reason, so WHY WON'T IT PLAY!!!???

Sorry... Um, anyway, here's another wonderful chapter for all of you awesome reviewers (and even the not-so-awesome strong-but-silent readers!)

* * *

He ran a hand over the smooth wooden bars of the crib, gazing down into the empty space, eyes lingering on the pristine white blankets. Vague memories clouded his mind. The smell of smoke, the heat of a fire, a small bundle, wrapped up in white, squirming in his arms.

Sighing, Dean tore his eyes away from the crib and looked around the nursery. The room was painted purple, due to the fact that the child's gender couldn't be found out until the due date, which was nearly six months away. Purple was supposed to be gender-neutral. Dean thought the kid would grow up gay. Sam said that was probably true, because kids learn from their parents. Sam had spent the rest of the day washing purple out of his hair.

"You ok?" a soft voice called from behind him.

Dean spun around to see his brother standing in the doorway to the room. "You really think it's safe?"

Sammy shrugged. "We checked the history, ran EMF scans, did EVP work, and didn't find anything. We had a priest bless the house, laid salt lines, and nothing's gotten in yet."

"Maybe nothing's tried."

"Or maybe the house is safe. Let's face it, Dean, it's been two weeks since we signed the lease and nothing's attacked. Let's just sit back and enjoy this little vacation you forced us to take, huh?"

Dean sighed, glancing back into the room, his hand snaking towards his stomach and drawing slowly across it. "I want to be safe."

Sam ducked his head, letting his eyes wander from his brother's hand, which had spent quite a bit of time lingering on the older man's belly since the demon had attacked. "I know you do. You just have to trust that things are gonna be all right."

"When have things ever been all right?"

"Since when have you been such a pessimist?"

The older hunter smiled, heading towards to door and his brother. "Hormones, man. Get used to it, 'cause there's still six more months to go."

Sam almost grinned, but stopped himself. That old worry was back in his brother's eyes, along with a kind of subtle fear he wasn't used to seeing there.

Sam stood in the doorway to the nursery long after Dean had brushed past him, heading for the kitchen. The older man had changed so much in three months that Sammy had trouble recognizing him sometimes. He was troubled, worried almost to the point of paranoia, and scared- not for himself, but for the baby.

He was also incredibly happy, beaming, _glowing_, even. Sam chuckled. 'Glowing' was not usually the first word that popped into his mind when he thought about Dean. No, certain choice expletives normally got first chair. It was a welcome change.

o0o0o0o0o

Nothing was living on the walls of the Winchester brothers' shower, and for that, Dean was thankful. More than thankful, actually. He was ecstatic. His child wouldn't have to deal with grimy walls and dirty sheets and colored tap water. The kid would get the star treatment, he was going to make sure of it.

The shower was clean and white and spotless, and the shining showerhead sprayed warm, clear water. They were stocked up on soap, settling in for the long haul, and he couldn't have been happier.

The tiny house in a suburb of Omaha had been fairly new when the brothers had scraped up enough money to rent it. That had been over a month ago, and now they were living comfortably.

Sam had gotten a job- an honest-to-goodness _job_- working in the local grocery store. He'd jumped at the chance at a normal life, but been a bit peeved when Dean had calmly explained that he would be the only breadwinner in the family. After all, baby's grand entrance was fast approaching, and Dean could hardly ask for Maternity Leave when the time came.

It wasn't like he didn't contribute, though. He had a small savings account, filled mostly with money from odd jobs and hustled pool games from the past ten or so years. John hadn't even known about the secret account, a kind of nest-egg, just in case.

Just in case had come, or would, in roughly five months. Financial security had taken priority in the father-to-be's mind in recent days, even beating out potential demonic attacks for the time, which was probably why he didn't notice it at first. It was easy to miss, really, even as he stood in the shower, sudsing up and worrying about money.

It was only after he'd finished with the shower that he discovered it. He'd been drying off and turned to check that the door was locked, because it didn't always stick. He'd happened to glance into the mirror and dropped his towel, letting his hand once again draw its way across his stomach.

Calloused fingers ran over a slight bulge and he leaned forward and rubbed the condensation off the mirror to get a better look. He couldn't keep the smile off his face as his other hand strayed from the mirror and joined the first, cupping what looked like the start of a small beer gut. He'd never doubted, not really, but now there was proof.

Dean was going to be a mommy.

* * *

For those of you wondering, that was months 3 and 4. Told you this pregnancy would go by fast! 


	7. Chapter 7

Yay! Over 50 reviews. I had no idea I'd ever get that many on this story. Once again, thanks to everyone who's taking the time to type. I know it's hard to think of things to say sometimes.

On a different, more-story-related note: remember how last chapter I started off by saying that from now on every section of a chapter is a different month? This one's exempt. Heehee... oops.

* * *

Sam wasn't blind. He'd noticed his brother's wardrobe change, the old shirts being replaced by newer, bigger ones, the jeans being replaced by sweat pants, the constant smile on Dean's face. It was pretty hard to miss.

Even harder to miss was his brother's apparent weight gain.

Sammy sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table and pulling a pen out of his jacket pocket. He glanced around the small room once before pulling a white envelope out of a plastic bag he'd smuggled through the door.

He opened the envelope and slid out the card, trying unsuccessfully to keep it from spilling pink glitter all over the table. He couldn't help but smile as he opened it up and began to write a little message. Honestly, Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

He finished signing the card and shoved it back into the envelope, brushing the glitter left behind off of the table and onto the tile. He'd just tucked the card safely away in his jacket pocket when Dean came running in, sliding slightly across the floor in his socks, a large smile planted firmly on his face.

"Where's the fire?" Sammy demanded, making sure the envelope was hidden from sight. He expected an answer, obviously, some snide remark or an eye-roll, anything but what actually happened.

Dean reached out and grabbed his brother's hand, and, grinning like a maniac, pressed it to the side of his swollen belly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded, trying (and failing) to pull his hand from his brother's grip.

"Can't you feel that?" Dean asked, grin fading, eyes clouding with concern. The happiness that had been radiating from him just a moment before was gone, replaced with worry.

"Feel what?"

"It's kicking." He sounded almost desperate, like maybe he thought he was crazy, just imagining things, wanting to feel something where nothing was taking place.

Sam sighed. "You really think I wanna feel that?"

"Better than what I could have put your hand on." Sam recognized the humor instantly as his brother's grin returned half-heartedly. Dean was scared.

"Dude, that is just-" He stopped, moving his hand slightly, focusing.

"What?"

Sam smiled. "Again," he said softly, "twice. I felt it." He looked up at his brother. "This is really happening."

Dean nodded, subtle relief flooding his features. "Hard to believe, huh?"

"I mean, I didn't actually think you were stupid enough to…you know?"

The older man finally let his brother's hand go. "Yeah, I know. But, I mean, can you blame me? The thought of everything it meant to take this kid…"

"Yeah. I guess it makes sense, on that weird, twisted level of existence you live on. You wanted a family, Ellen wouldn't give it to you, so you took matters into your own womb."

"Actually," Dean said, "I wasn't really thinking about that when I agreed to do this."

"What _were_ you thinking about?"

"Nine months without a period," Dean grinned, "it's been like Heaven so far."

Sammy shook his head. "Our lives are weird, man."

"You can say that again."

o0o0o0o0o

Smiling, Sam sauntered into the living room, glad that Sunday had finally arrived. He slipped the card, now safely sealed inside the envelope, out of his pocket and headed into the kitchen, where Dean was busy making breakfast.

"'Bout time you got up," the older man muttered, "you have any idea what time it is?"

"You have any idea what day it is?" Sam asked.

"Sunday?"

"Which Sunday?"

Dean shrugged. "Second one this month. You all right?"

"Which month?"

"May. Dude, did you get hit in the head or something?"

Sammy shook his head. "Nope. Got you something, though." He held out the envelope.

"Little early for the baby shower, don't you think, Sammy?" Dean grinned, taking the envelope and holding it up to the light to see the outline of what was inside. "There better be money in here."

He ripped open the envelope and pulled the card out, frowning at the amount of sparkling pink glitter that fell out and covered his shirt. Groaning, he wiped himself off and glared at Sam.

"Just read it," Sam grinned.

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the card. "I know you're not a mother yet, but will be someday soon," he read, "the pattering of little feet will sound from every room. Happy Mother's Day." He looked up. "That's disturbing, man."

"Read the rest."

"Do I have to?"

"Depends. You want me to help with diaper duty?"

Grumbling, the older man looked back at the card, squinting his eyes in an attempt to decipher his brother's handwriting. "It might seem like a nine month wait, but that's just not true man," he read slowly, "you raised me from my sixth month on, this baby's in good hands."

Sammy flashed a smile. "So?"

Dean closed the card slowly, brushing more glitter off of his expanding stomach and smiling. "You're a sucky poet, dude. That barely made any sense at all."

"Still not the one with a bun in the oven."

"Nope. Gotta give you credit for that."

"Honestly, though… Happy Mother's Day. If anyone deserves it, it's you."

Dean grinned. "You're such a pansy."

"Not the one who's gonna have to figure out breast feeding, though."

"It's called formula, Sam, because there's no way in Hell I'm gonna let you hold anything else over my head for the rest of my life."

"You really think I'd make fun of you for that?"

"Not sure. I'm still waiting for the camera to make an appearance so you can document this truly abnormal event."

"Come on, man," Sam reasoned, "I'm waiting until at _least _the eighth month to pull out the Polaroid. The bigger, the better, am I right?"

"If I wasn't pregnant, I'd slug you."

"Guess you'll have to take a rain check, then."

"Guess I will." He glanced back down at the card and grinned. "Thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

All right. Another day, another update, another couple of months. Enjoy!

* * *

He laid in the bed, a bed that was his, a bed that was soft and smooth and clean. His eyes were open, mind alert, taking in the shifting shadows on the walls of his bedroom, assessing them for threats, finding none. He finally felt safe in his house, and it had only taken three months.

Three months of worry, of checking salt lines, of sleepless nights. Three months, and he finally believed his brother when Sam said that the house was safe. It was protected, it was guarded, it was home.

He sighed, letting his hand slide across his expanding stomach, and smiled. He loved feeling that weight there, knowing that he alone would be responsible for saving that child's life. _His_ child's life.

He'd never felt so optimistic about the future, so happy, like what should have been could finally be. He'd never felt as close to anyone as he felt to his child, never _let_ himself feel so close. He'd learned from experience that a child meant unconditional love, someone to take care of, someone who would _need_ him.

He also knew it was no cakewalk, but the good still outweighed the bad.

Dean let his eyes slide shut and thought about the future, of names, and schools, and PTA meetings, and being normal. It had never sounded so good, never looked this appealing before. Before, normal was what Sam had wanted, why Sam had left. Now it was something that was within his reach, something he could attain, something that would make his child safe.

In the end, that was the only thing that mattered. The safety of the kid. It had become a major preoccupation in his life, and for obvious reasons. He kept checking in with Ash and Bobby, kept up on the latest outbreaks of demonic activity. Nothing in the area.

It seemed almost too good to be true, and he was wary of that. It was easy to get distracted, though, each time the baby shifted or kicked, each time he noticed that another shirt was getting tighter. It was so easy to think about what each fluttering movement and new t-shirt meant, too easy to actually let himself hope.

He'd hoped before. Hoped that mom would come home, that dad would come back from a hunt unscathed, that Sam would change his mind about college, that Ellen would take him back. This was different, though. The baby was going to love him, wouldn't know any better. It was like starting fresh, a clean slate, and it was appealing.

There was finally a place for hope in Dean's life, and he couldn't have been happier about it. He felt a shift inside of him, the baby moving slightly, making its presence known, reminding him that he wasn't alone. He rubbed his hand in a circle on his stomach, smiling to himself, knowing that he was going to miss the feeling of having that innocence inside of him when the time came. He would lose that warmth, that comforting weight, but he would gain a son or daughter. Seemed like an even trade.

He started humming a lullaby, still rubbing his stomach, trying to calm the shifting, kicking life inside of him. It seemed to work, and his smile widened. Three more months and he would be a dad. Three more months and he would have his child.

He couldn't have been happier.

o0o0o0o0o

Dean couldn't help but laugh. The weird look Sam was giving him didn't help to stop the fit of giggles, and that seemed to annoy Sammy even more than the sudden bout of laughter.

"What?" the younger man asked indignantly.

"This school," Dean grinned, passing the information his brother had printed out across the table, grunting as he struggled to reach.

Sam glanced at the paper. "Great academics," he noted, "excellent sports teams, they make State in basically every event. What's wrong with it?"

"The team name," Dean said, his laughter finally gone.

"The Antlers?"

"Yeah," the elder replied, "I mean, they're not even good enough to be represented by a whole deer. I don't think I want my son to call himself an animal part."

"Could be a girl."

"I don't want _her_ to be part of an animal, either. Why can't we send the kid to the other school in town? It can be a Blue Eagle."

"We live on the 'poor' side of town. Besides, according to your logic, that school won't do either. Eagles aren't blue. You don't want the kid to be an entire animal that doesn't really exist, do you?"

"Eagles exist."

"Blue ones don't."

"They do if you paint them."

Sam sighed. "You want your kid to be a painted endangered species?"

"Better than deer horns."

"Elk."

"Deer, elk, same difference. I'm just trying to make a point."

"I think the point here is that there is no point. Your kid's going to the school they put it in, whole animal mascot or not. You don't get a say in it unless you move."

Dean nodded. "True."

"Besides, it's not like it matters anyway. You won't be here by the time that kid reaches high school."

"You calling me old?"

"No," Sam defended, "I'm just saying that, given our lifestyle-"

"You think I'm gonna keep hunting?"

"Well-"

"Because we've been over this," Dean said, sliding his chair back and struggling to gain his feet, "I'm not putting this kid through the crap we went through. No moving, no hunting, no training. It's gonna be school, home, friends, _safe_. No unnecessary risk. You got that?"

Sammy nodded, a little taken aback. "Sure, yeah, I hear you. I just never thought those words would come out of your mouth in that specific order."

Dean shrugged. "Things change."

The younger man nodded again, glancing around the tiny kitchen once before letting his eyes rest on his brother. "You'd think, wouldn't you? But you know you love the job. You won't be able to stay away, it's in your nature."

Dean smirked, rubbing a hand over his stomach. "The laws of nature have been known to bend for me," he said, turning around and heading out of the room.

Sam sighed. "See how he feels in two months," he muttered, "once he can get back in the game, it'll be a whole different story."

o0o0o0o0o

The ringing of the telephone brought Dean out of a light, mid-morning-television induced slumber. Groaning, he reached over to the end table and grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Dean. Long time, no see."

He grinned, recognizing the voice instantly, even though it had been eight months since he'd last spoken to its owner. "Kayla. Hey. What's up?"

"Just calling to check up on my favorite mommy-to-be, making sure you've been keeping track of time."

"Kind of hard not to."

He could hear the smile in her voice as she replied. "How've you been feeling?"

"Pretty good, considering I've had to buy three new pairs of shoes in the past month, have been acting as my kid's own personal punching back, and have to pee every five minutes. You?"

"Just great," she said, snorting softly as she tried to hide her laughter.

"Yeah, I know, I know," the hunter rolled his eyes, "you told me so. You just call to rub it in?"

"No, no. I just wanted to remind you that the due date is fast approaching and, unless you want to do things the old-fashioned way, you should come see me within the month."

"The old-fashioned way being…?"

"Trying to push a grapefruit through a straw."

"And that would probably end…?"

"In a very embarrassing and expensive series of plastic surgeries. Trust me, you'll want to show up at my doorstep before the contractions start."

"Will do."

"Good. I'll see you in a month, then?"

"Sure thing." The line clicked and Dean hung up, reaching across his now-ample stomach to set the cell back on the table. He turned back to the TV, grabbing the remote and frowning at the amount of useless drivel on at that hour of the morning. "If they're gonna show a marathon," he muttered, "they could at least show the good episodes."

A sudden flash illuminated the room, causing the hunter to flinch and turn sharply towards the hallway. "Sam, what was that?"

"That was the first of many photo ops," Sam smiled, strolling out of the hallway with a camera in his hands. He flashed another quick picture. "That was number two."

"Sam, you destroy that film or so help me-"

"What are you gonna do, Dean? You gonna chase me down and get it yourself?"

"You are in big trouble," the elder growled, struggling to sit up, "as soon as I get off this couch-"

"_If_ you get off that couch, you mean. It might be a while." He snapped another photo.

"Sam, I swear-"

"Oh oh! Hold that pose. It's _perfect_!"

With another grunt and a sigh, Dean sank back down into the old couch, crossing his arms over his belly and scowling as Sam moved around in front of him for a better shot. "One of these days," Dean said, "you're going to wake up with no hair."

"Always assuming you can get up off your pregnant ass long enough to work a razor," Sam shot back.


	9. Chapter 9

Wow. Time sure flies when you're having fun, doesn't it? Of course, the due date is looming and the brothers figure it's about time to head back to Kayla's place. That's right. The moment you've all been waiting for. It's time for baby's grand entrance.

On that happy note, I'd just like to, once again, thank everyone who's bothering to review. I have very low self-esteem so it really helps to keep me writing!

* * *

The door to the small apartment was thrown open to reveal a very perturbed witch. "It's about time you got here," Kayla barked, eyes roving over Dean, "come in."

"You, uh, expecting someone else?" Sam asked as he followed his brother through the doorway.

"Maybe," she sighed, running a hand through her hair and shaking her head, "I don't know."

"So, you're just always in a bitchy mood, then?" Dean offered.

The witch turned, eyes narrowed. "There's a storm coming," she whispered, "something building in this area. I can sense it. I really don't want to be here when it starts."

The brothers glanced at each other. "Should we be worried?" Dean asked, concern apparent in his eyes, hand resting on his stomach.

"No," Kayla smiled, "I don't think so. I'm just a paranoid person by nature, I guess. Come with me and we'll get this started, huh? I've got a room set up in back." She grabbed Dean's hand and led him away, motioning for Sam to stay in the main room.

"So, uh, how's this work exactly?" Dean asked as he looked around the small bedroom. A single bed, the only piece of furniture visible in the enclosed area, sat in the middle of the room.

"Lay down," the witch instructed, pointing to the bed.

"Easier said than done," the hunter grinned, struggling into a comfortable position.

Mikayla walked up beside the bed. She reached out and ran a soft, glowing, hand down the side of Dean's face, smiling as she did so. "Sleep," she whispered as he closed his eyes, "it'll be all over when you wake."

o0o0o0o0o

Dean groaned, rubbing groggily at his eyes before opening them and looking around the room. The walls were bare and white, as were the sheets he was laying on. Blinking, he sat up, surprised at the ease of the task.

He glanced down at himself, shocked to see how loose his shirt was. He struggled out of the folds of clothing and ran a hand over his stomach, which was perfectly flat for the first time in almost five months.

He slid off the bed, taking a quick inventory, checking to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. He pinched himself, flinching at the pain, and grinned. It was over. He could have his family.

He jumped as the door to the room creaked open and Sam poked his head in. "Hey, you're up," the younger man exclaimed.

Dean shrugged. "For the past minute, yeah. So, uh…"

Sammy grinned. "Kayla wouldn't let me see her. Said you should be first."

A slow smile crept across the older hunter's face as he sank down onto the bed. "_Her?_"

"Congrats," Sam nodded, "it's a girl."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the squeaking of the door as Kayla snuck in. "You're up," she smiled, "how you feeling?"

The hunter stood up and looked down at himself. "I can see my feet again," he grinned, "so, fine, I guess. Um-"

"It's a girl," she interrupted, "ten fingers, ten toes. You want to see her?"

"You even have to ask?"

Kayla nodded. "I'll go get her, bring her in. Be back in a few." She turned on her heels and blew back through the door, waving at the brothers as she went.

"A girl," Dean marveled, "it's a girl."

"It's a girl," Sammy echoed, "so, have you thought about names yet?"

Once again, Dean opened his mouth to answer and was cut off by an unexpected noise. This time, however, it wasn't the door.

A loud crash penetrated the silence of the apartment, getting the brothers' attention and effectively pulling them from whatever thoughts of happy futures and well-deserved celebrations they were having.

Without a word, the two hunters ran from the room, skidding around a corner in the hallway to find an open door swaying slightly in the breeze from an open window. Nodding at each other, both boys drew their weapons, which were never out of reach, and cautiously entered the room.

Mikayla was lying in the middle of the hardwood floor, her body surrounded by a pool of her own blood, her throat slit. Without uttering a word, Sam crossed the room, his long legs getting him to the shattered window in two strides. He ran his fingers carefully along the sill, eyes narrowing at the site of the fine yellow powder that rested there.

"Sulfur," Sam reported, turning to face his brother.

Dean didn't respond. He was standing across the room, staring down at something that his body was hiding from Sam's view.

Slowly, the younger man made his way from the window, side-stepping Kayla's soaking body, to his brother's side.

Dean was looking at an empty, white bassinet, his eyes blank, hands shaking slightly. Blood was splattered up the side of the small crib, marring the pristine quality of the cloth.

Sam reached out a hand and set it softly on his brother's shoulder. "Dean-"

"It took her," Dean growled, his hands clenching into tight fists until his fingernails began to cut into his palms, drawing blood that dripped into the empty carrier, "that son of a bitch."


	10. Chapter 10

Heehee... evil cliffies are my specialty. But I'm back now with another chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Ellen barely looked up as the door to the Roadhouse banged open and Sam Winchester walked in. He strode to the bar, his steps quick and purposeful, his presence demanding her attention. Finally, she pulled her eyes from the glass she was cleaning and gazed up at him. "Sam. What can I do you for?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "That could be interpreted a couple of ways."

She nodded. "You're right. There's the way it's intended, or your brother's way."

The younger man frowned at her. "Where's Ash?"

"In the back room," she replied, watching as the door opened slowly and Dean stuck his head in. He looked over at the bar, saw her, averted his eyes, and slouched in. "What's wrong with him? Postpartum?"

Sam's frown turned quickly into something ugly, an expression that didn't quite seem to fit his personality, something vile, something like hate. "The demon took the baby," he growled, his voice low, "and he thought Ash might be able to help us find her."

"_Her?_"

"It's a girl," he nodded quickly before stalking off towards the back.

Ellen watched him walk off, sighing and resting her chin in her hand. Her eyes wandered back to Dean, who stood leaning against the wall, staring out the window at the setting sun. His face was drawn, his hands shoved in his pockets, eyes sad.

Against her better judgment, she went to him.

o0o0o0o0o

A muffled noise sounded from behind the closed door and Sam knocked again, more impatiently than he had before. "You want me to put my pants on for this, or not?" Ash's voice called out.

Sam dropped his hand immediately to his side, shuddering slightly. "A shirt would be nice, too," he said.

The door was wrenched open to reveal Ash, standing in a old pair of torn jeans and a t-shirt which proudly encouraged everyone who read it to 'surf naked.' "Yeah?"

"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked, grinning, "'_surf naked_?'"

"It's a classic."

"You live in Nebraska."

"We have wave pools," the older man defended, "so, what brings you to my little corner of paradise?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I need information."

"Well, you're in luck, 'cause I've got a lot of that. Info on anything in particular, or just a general overview of our wonderful world and how it works?"

"The demon. I need to find out where it is."

"Any reason you need to find it now?"

"It took something that belongs to my brother and we need to get it back."

Ash nodded. "Lucky for you, my computer's been screaming at me for the past hour. All those signs that announce the grand entrance of our favorite big bad have been popping up. I told Ellen to call you, but she said you couldn't help. Something about Dean being 'incapacitated.'"

"Where are the signs, Ash? Omaha?"

"Omaha, Bennington, Waterloo, Gretna, Papillion."

"For the past hour? It can't be everywhere at once."

Ash nodded again, ducking back into his room. "See, now, that's what I thought, so I printed out a map." He stepped into the doorway again, proudly brandishing a piece of colored computer paper. "Omaha," he began, pointing out the city on the map, "Bennington, Waterloo, Gretna, Papillion."

"It's a circle," Sam muttered as Ash traced the shape.

"And what's in the center?"

Sam's eyes went wide as he found the tiny town nestled within the ring of demonic activity. "Son of a bitch."


	11. Chapter 11

Well, for everyone who's waiting to find out waht's at the center of the little demonic circle, you might ahve to wait a little bit longer. This chapter is one of the reasons I wrote this story, so I couldn't help but fit it in :)

* * *

He didn't look at her as she approached, didn't really feel like acknowledging her existence. It was all her fault, everything that had happened, all of that hope that had been ripped away. She had caused all of that pain.

Ellen reached out and placed a hand on his arm, muttering his name. He shrugged her off and took a slow, smooth step away.

"Dean," she sighed, again reaching out and rubbing his arm, trying to provide a little comfort, "I'm sorry-"

"Don't," he growled, pulling away again, this time more quickly, "not unless you mean it."

Her arm dropped back to her side as she stood looking at him. "I heard it's a girl," she attempted weakly.

"So did I," he replied, "not sure, though. Never did actually get to see her."

"Must be hard."

"Like you care."

"You'll find her," Ellen said softly, taking his hands in hers and looking up into his eyes, "I'm sure of it."

"I was pretty sure I'd find my dad," Dean argued, "after he left. That only took a year."

"If anyone can do it in record time," she assured, "it's you. That girl's in good hands."

He sighed, glancing down at their interlocked hands, his eyes careful and calculating, mind processing what she'd said. "It's my fault, isn't it?"

"You couldn't have known. Besides, I'm the one who suggested it in the first place. I shouldn't have told you. I should have just let it go."

"Then where would we be?"

Ellen shrugged. "Same place we were before?"

He smiled, a sad, small expression, and finally tore his gaze from their hands. He looked at her, his eyes telling tales of crushed hopes and murdered dreams, and she realized that he was asking for help without asking, just trusting her to know.

She almost pulled away then, like she knew what was going to happen without realizing it, like she knew how he thought, what he wanted. She didn't, though, and that was her first mistake.

Her second was not pulling back when he edged closer.

Her third was letting him kiss her.

They stood like that for a while, their bodies close, lips touching. She didn't try to pull away, didn't reject him, and Dean knew that she'd changed her mind. She was finally willing to help him out, to give him what he needed. She had come back to him, like everyone else in his life, only she hadn't hurt him again, she hadn't turned back around. She was close, she was warm, and he was loved.

He felt her hands on his chest, but thought nothing of it. He needed the proximity, couldn't back down. She'd let him come back, she'd forgiven him for whatever wrong he'd committed to make her reject him, and everything was back to the way it should be. He'd gotten what he wanted, that safety and comfort and warmth and love, and he'd gotten it from her.

And then she pushed. The contact was broken and he stumbled back, falling up against the wall. He searched her eyes for an explanation and found only anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she hissed, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth, disgust written on her face.

Dean didn't answer, just looked down at his hands, remembering how hers had slid in so gently, how they wouldn't have if she hadn't meant it.

"_Well_?"

He looked back up, everything clicking together belatedly, making him feel like a fool, making him feel _used_. Without a word, he shoved past her and wrenched the door open, stepping out into the humidity of the Nebraska summer, leaving Ellen to stare after him.

She moved to the window and watched as he climbed into his car, placing his hands on the wheel and letting his head drop. "Honestly," she muttered angrily, "I can't believe him."

"You're right," a voice rang out behind her, "he really should have learned by now."

Sighing, the woman turned to face Sam, who was standing in the back of the room. "How much of that did you see?"

"Enough," he replied, "but you _are _right. I mean, any normal person would have figured it out long ago."

"And just what does that mean?"

He smiled, walking up to her and gazing out the window at his brother. "Attachment only leads to pain."

"You're an optimist."

"I'm just saying," the younger man clarified, "that after everything that's happened to him, he should just stop trying."

"You blaming me for all of this?"

"No. You're only a part of it. See, this kind of thing's been happening to him for a while. Mom, dad, Cassie, me, Jo, Gordon, you. We're all a part of it."

She nodded. "You obviously want to fill me in here, so go ahead. I'm listening."

"Mom died," Sam explained, "he loved her, he trusted her, and she died. She came back in Lawrence, though, 22 years later. She practically snubbed him. She barely looked at him. You should have seen the way he looked at her when she showed up, and then for her to just ignore him like that…"

Ellen nodded. "Yeah, he told me about that."

"Did he tell you that she blew up again? Did he tell you that she didn't ignore me?"

"He skipped that part."

Sam nodded. "He loved dad, too. Looked up to him. You saw how he acted after he died. You know, when dad left, it really messed him up."

"Got that, yeah."

"Dad came back, though, and then he left again, and then he came back again. His eyes were yellow and he told Dean that we didn't need him. He said we didn't care. And then he died."

She rolled her eyes. "So that messed him up, too."

"Did he tell you he loved you?"

She took a small step away from him, away from the window, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Maybe. Why?"

"He doesn't tell that to many women. He doesn't trust them enough. The last chick he told that to, he also told the family secret. She dumped him. Sound familiar?"

"I'm still not getting the point here, Sam."

He grinned, but the expression never actually touched his eyes. "She called him back about a year later asking for help with a racist ghost truck. He went running, they got back together, and then we had to leave again."

Ellen nodded. "Ok, so there's a connection, but-"

"He gave me everything I ever asked for and I left for college. I promised him I would call and write, but I never did. I forgot all about him. He came and got me, my girlfriend died, and I went back on the road with him. I told him that as soon as we got rid of the demon I would go back to school and leave him. I ran away more than once. He keeps letting me come back, though."

"You're right. He does need to learn."

"Jo expressed quite an interest in him in the beginning. She followed him around, dropped hints like her life depended on it. I think he liked it, like maybe, if worse came to worse, he could run to her and she'd take him. Then she flat-out rejected him because of what our father did. I think it bugged him more than he let on, because the fail-safe he saw in her was gone."

"The only thing I'm getting from this is that your brother needs mental help."

"I'm not even to the best part yet," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "He trusted Gordon Walker, too. Gordon had been there, had lost people, and knew what he was going through. Gordy was a little psychotic, though, and Dean lost his new father-figure."

"But Gordon found you both again."

"Yeah, and he tried to blow me up. _Twice_."

Ellen nodded. "He left and came back to cause a little more pain."

"And then there's you. Letting him think he had something, ripping it away, calling him back and offering an impossible ultimatum. He took that baby, and when it got taken away from him, he came back here. You let him think you were sorry, you led him on."

"I did no such thing!"

"You offered comfort when you shouldn't have. You acted like you meant it when you didn't."

"It's not my fault your brother can't differentiate between love and sympathy."

"But it _is_ your fault. And mine, and Gordon's, and Jo's, and everyone else's. He's not the bad guy here, Ellen. _We_ are. I think it's high time you realized that."

And suddenly, she understood. "You don't really want to be here, do you? You don't want to keep traveling with him."

Sam averted his eyes, no longer staring out the window, but choosing instead to gaze at the scuffed hardwood floor. "I made my choice. I'm not going to hurt him again. Not if I can help it."

"Even at the expense of your own happiness?"

"That's the thing," he smiled, "I _am_ happy. He trusts me, and I trust him, and we get along. He's a great guy if you just get to know him."

"Maybe I don't want to."

Sam shrugged, heading for the door. "Your loss," he said. "Oh, and don't forget the child support."


	12. Chapter 12

OK, so it's the next-to-last chapter and it's really really short. Sorry about that. the good news is, this story's almsot over, nad there's a sequel in the works. Yay!

I'd just like to take the time out to, once again, thank everyone who reviews the story. It really means a lot that you take the time to write such nice things!

* * *

Dean looked over expectantly as his brother slid into the passenger seat beside him. "Did Ash know anything?"

Sammy sighed. "There's a ring of demonic activity in the eastern area of the state."

"Where's the center?"

"Elkhorn."

Dean started up the car and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "Son of a bitch."

"You're telling me."

"It's waiting for us."

Sam nodded. "Trap?"

"Trap."

"It's in for a rude awakening if it thinks we're just gonna walk right into that."

"Grab the journal," Dean ordered, nodding toward the backseat, "if we can't kill the bastard, we can least send it back to Hell."

Sam reached over the seat and began digging through the bag that had been thrown into the back as Dean pulled away from Harvelle's, heading home. He found what he was looking for quickly and turned back around in the seat, buckling up for safety as he did so.

It didn't take long for Sam to become completely engrossed in attempting to find a proper exorcism for the demon that had haunted his family for so long, and he barely noticed his brother's far-away stare, the way his eyes glassed over as his mind wandered.

It had been a long year for Dean, the first year in a long time he hadn't felt completely alone and unwanted. There had been that warmth that the baby brought, that feeling of completeness, that fullness that he'd never quite been able to find before.

He'd known it would end eventually, but there had always been that knowledge that he'd have the baby. If nothing else, at least he'd have _something_. Now, though, it seemed like he'd been wrong.

That thing, the thing that had taken both of his parents and threatened to take his brother, had also taken his daughter. There was no telling what it would do to her, if she would be all right, if she would even be left alive.

And it was all his fault.

He'd wanted her, he'd taken her, he'd led her into a life of fear and darkness. She wasn't even a day old yet and already she was in mortal danger. If she'd had normal parents, if she'd had a mother that wanted her and father who wasn't a freak, maybe the little girl would have stood a fighting chance.

It wasn't fair, and it was all his fault.

"Found one," Sam said from beside him, pulling Dean out of his thoughts.

"Great." He hit the gas, speeding towards the small town he and his brother had called home for the past six months, praying that they weren't too late.


	13. Lucky 13

Oh, the last chapter. The end of the story (I do this with every story I write, so iIm jsut gonna cut all the 'end of an era' crap and get to the thank-yous, kay?).

First off, I'd like to thank everyone who bothered to review. There are cutrrently 100 reviews for this story, which is something I never thought that it would accomplish. Thanks so much! You guys are the reason I have the courage to keep writing!

Second, I'd like to thank my friend Carissa for laughing for practically 5 straight minutes after I recited the "grapefruit through a straw" line. Seriously, she did. And it wasn't even the middle of the night (see, _I_ have an excuse for laughing!).

I'd also like to thank Eric Kripke for trying to push Dean/Ellen on us in the finale. Seriously, did anyone else notice that he was mainly concerned about_ her_ (and not Ash or anyone else) in AHBL1? And then that hug in the salvage yard? I was all like 'that's right, bury your head in her shoulder, prove me right.' BTW, those aren't major spoilers for the episodes. Don't worry, I didn't just totally ruin your viewing experience. You can stop with the death-threats now... please?

And finally, after the longest author's note I've ever written, the final chapter of "The Grapefruit Analogy!"

* * *

The little baby gurgled softly, kicking tiny feet as sparkling yellow eyes watched her every move. The demon looked around the nursery, taking in the various stuffed animals, the purple walls, the white crib. It seemed the perfect place to end a dream, to take a life, to break a man.

It smiled as it heard the front door opening. It turned its eyes back to the little girl in the crib. "Daddy's home," it whispered, reaching out and stroking the side of her face tenderly, almost lovingly.

The door to the nursery burst open to reveal the Winchester brothers, both looking extremely pissed off. Again, the demon smiled. "It's about time you got here."

"We didn't think you were stupid enough to try and follow us home," Dean said as he and his brother slowly entered the room, "guess we were wrong."

"I figured you'd want your little bundle of joy to see her home at least once," it replied smoothly, "after all, you took the time and effort to set up such a nice little room for her."

"Why do you even care about her?" Sam asked, "I thought you wanted me."

"I do. Children are just easier to handle. They don't fight, they don't complain, they don't struggle. You, on the other hand, are a stubborn one. Yes, I much prefer infants."

"She's psychic?"

"Of course not. I just like making your brother squirm."

Said brother was spending most his time glaring at the demon, hatred apparent in his bright eyes. "Sam."

The younger man nodded, pulling their father's journal from his pocket and flipping it open to the marked page.

"An exorcism?" the demon asked, grinning, its eyes sparkling, "you really think that's going to work?"

"They always have in the past," Dean shrugged, stepping closer to the crib and the demon, "why not?"

"If your stupid little salt lines and blessings couldn't keep me out of the house," it said, kicking at the line of salt around the crib, "then what makes you think an exorcism will work? Nothing else has."

Dean smirked, his eyes traveling up to the ceiling, where a large symbol had been painted. "Sam's idea," he explained, "he figured it would come in handy if anything unpleasant ever tried to take her at night. I wanted to paint over it. Didn't see the point of trapping an innocent baby in a magic circle with a demon."

"That makes sense."

He nodded. "Sam didn't think so. I'm starting to agree with him. Even if our first little exorcism doesn't work, we've got all the time in the world to find another… and another… and another…"

"In the meantime, your pretty little daughter's stuck in here with me."

"I think she'll be all right."

"I don't," the demon hissed, "have you ever been exorcised? It hurts. So much pain in such a small body. She might not survive."

"See, now, that's what I told Sam," Dean agreed, stepping carefully closer to the crib, "so he got this awesome idea to call someone up to help with embroidery."

The demon cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Sam grinned. "Look at the blanket."

The demon snorted, but did as it was told. It reached into the crib, smoothing the sheets around the infant, an action which elicited a threatening growl from her father. Sewn into the blanket the little girl was wrapped in was a Devil's Trap.

"Clever," the demon admitted, turning back to the brothers, "very clever. So I can't possess her. What's stopping me from just killing her, though? I could slit her throat, I could tear her limb from limb, I could break every bone in that little body."

"I don't think you will," Dean said slowly, moving closer, his eyes on the crib. "Sam, start it."

The younger man nodded, stepping forward as he began to read. The demon turned back to the baby, reaching for her, intent upon making good on its threats. Dean ran into the circle, shoving the demon out of his way and practically diving into the crib.

He demon growled, jerking slightly to one side as Sam continued to read. It gained its feet and ran for the older hunter, grabbing his arm and shoving him back into a wall.

Dean sailed through the air, hitting the wall hard enough to put a large dent in the plaster. He slumped down against it, wrapping his arms around himself, curling into a ball as the demon shrieked and groaned.

Sam watched with horror, still reading, as the creature clawed at the crib even as it lost its hold on the world. Scraps of white blanket went flying as the demon turned to smoke, swirling around in the circle, and, still screaming, flew up against the ceiling.

The room was suddenly silent. Sam dropped the journal, the clunk as it hit the floor echoing in the emptiness. He glanced over at Dean, who appeared to be unconscious, before running to the crib.

The sheets were torn and scattered everywhere, stuffing from toys and pillows filled the bed. The baby was nowhere to be seen.

"She's gone," Sammy whispered, his heart sinking, "it took her somehow. She's gone." He bowed his head, looking into the empty crib. He heard a soft whimper behind him, undoubtedly Dean coming to grips with what had happened to his daughter. That whimper quickly turned into a small, choking sob, then into full-on wailing.

Bringing his head up, Sam turned to see Dean sitting against the wall, slowly rocking the crying infant in his arms. "No way."

Dean looked up at him, a large smile on his face. "Way."

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Sam sank to his knees. He crawled over to where his brother was sitting. "No way."

"Way," Dean repeated, turning back to the baby. "Shh. It's ok. Daddy's here, daddy's here. It's ok now, daddy's here," he soothed, stroking the side of her face as he rocked her.

Sammy leaned up against the wall and looked down at the baby. Her sobs began to taper off and she looked up at her father and uncle, bright hazel eyes shining. "She's beautiful."

Dean nodded, sliding carefully up the wall until he was standing. "Yeah, she is."

Sam stood up beside him and placed a light hand on the older man's shoulder. "She's safe now."

"For how long?"

"What do you mean?"

"We sent it back to Hell. It can crawl right back out again, it's just a matter of time. She's not gonna be safe. Not as long as she's with me."

"Dean, come on."

"You heard it, Sam. It likes messing with me, and what better way than to mess with her?"

"You're not thinking straight," Sammy reasoned, "demons lie, man."

"That one doesn't. Not to me. If I keep her, she's never gonna be safe. We'll have to keep running and hunting and I just don't want that for her. She's better off with someone else."

"You can't be serious."

Dean shook his head, looking down at the baby in his arms. She blinked up at him, gurgling softly, as a single tear slipped down his cheek and fell onto her forehead. "She deserves better."

"Can't get much better than you."

"I can't keep her safe."

"You kept me safe," Sam reasoned. Dean looked up at him uncertainly. "Look, we just keep the house protected. The Devil's Trap seemed to keep it out, so if we just etch those into the doors we should be fine. We'll re-lay the salt lines, have a different priest come in. We can work this out."

"You sure?"

Sam sighed. "You wanted her bad enough to bend the very laws of nature. I'm sure we can figure out some way to keep her safe. If anyone deserves anyone, it's you who deserves her."

Dean bit his lip and glanced back down at his daughter, who had fallen asleep in his arms. "She's tuckered," he muttered.

"Dean?"

"Yeah," the older man nodded. "Yeah, let's figure something out. Call in the cavalry if we need to. Ash, Bobby, Ellen, Jo. Somebody's bound to know something. The more ideas, the better, right?"

Sammy nodded. "Right. I'll get right on that, then." He patted his brother on the back and wandered from the room.

Dean looked back down at his daughter, softly rubbing a calloused finger over her forehead, wiping off his tear. "You hear that, Jaydin? We're gonna figure something out. Daddy's gonna make sure nothing bad ever happens to you." He kissed her gently, making a mental note to move her crib into his bedroom. No, he wasn't about to take his eyes off her, not again. Not ever.

* * *

OK, so that's it. The sequel? About 16 pages on Word and currently title-less. So, yeah, it might be a while (especially since I'll be on vacation later this month). Keep your eyes peeled for it, nad thanks again for the awesome support :) 


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